


Act no.2 - Fake silver tequila, no lemon

by LinGravior



Series: Intoxicating Series [2]
Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:04:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinGravior/pseuds/LinGravior
Summary: A second glimpse into Greg's and Jeffrey's trying to figure out, what to do with themselves. A year it is since their last meeting, and Jeff is not very comfortable with the idea of seeing Greg again. Will he change his mind?





	Act no.2 - Fake silver tequila, no lemon

**Author's Note:**

> So, the second part of this little story is out. Because what a better way to spend a final exams period, than writing a romance about two middle-aged men. So please, as you read this, have at least a little, teeny-tiny prayer for me, so I can pass that damn physiology with no mental damage :)))
> 
> Enjoy! :)

# Act no.2 - Fake silver tequila, no lemon 

Anxiousness and panic -that was what Jeff felt when he saw that curly head coming in the Green room, smiling at everyone and looking just as goddamn smug as always. And yes, Jeff pro’ly overreacted a bit - he was a little drunk after all - but still, he had all the right to be like this. Mr. Curled-hair was the reason he ran away like a little boy and hid in the small bathroom, planning to escape through the little window near the ceiling - before realising he is in the fourth fuckin’ floor and he would probably not land without breaking his ankle, and honestly, the only thing that frightened him more than meeting Greg vis-a-vis was Dan Patterson’s face when finding out he broke his leg after jumping from the height of forty five feet just because he was afraid to talk with Mr. P.

So escape in the style of a fifties’ clandestine lover is off the table. Think, Jeffrey, think, beat that alcohol in your blood and think straight. Maybe he could wait here until Greg goes away, after all, they won’t be taping till tomorrow, today was just some small rehearse for the tech-guys, and they’ve already finished it without Greg, so it shouldn’t take THAT long. The reason they all were here was more about meeting and chatter, rather than work. It became their own little tradition to meet an evening before the first taping, so they can catch up and have a drink or two together.

So maybe, if he organises next three days smartly enough, he might not meet Greg at all. Just one weekend in LA, They do not tape together at all and if he will be quiet enough, he may escape via emergency stairs any time now. Yes, he will do just that, disappear through the back door. And that all because of something that happened nearly eleven months ago. _A scared, childish motherfucker you are._ He thought it will be alright, that he’ll just laugh it off. But the moment he saw him – Jeff had no idea, what he was ashamed of more, whether because of the fact that he got himself drunk enough to almost go to the second base with Gregory Proops, or the fact that he was too drunk to actually reach that fuckin’ base. _And Greg left damn aspirins on the nightstand, how fucking gallant of him._ Anxiousness was swiftly substituted with embarrassment. He got so fucking hammered he wasn’t even able to put off his shoes. And he made Greg - a man fourteen fucking years older and fourteen fucking years more respected than himself - to sleep on a couch in his very own hotel room. _Great way to impress, Jeffrey._

He pressed the ear to the door and listened carefully. No signs of any activity, this is the chance to save that last bit of his dignity that was left. Or at least his chance to avoid one awkward talk with Greg. The hell he knew that some day he will eventually have to meet him, but today was definitely NOT the day. Awkwardness disappeared, just to be replaced by thrill of a good camp-style challenge. Crouching behind the paper wall of a cubicle, he peeked out, just to make sure he is alone. He sneaked out towards the sinks, checked the mirrors, no activity around. Slowly, carefully, easy, but efficient. _Like that Skyrim shit you play when bored, Jeff. Sneakin’ skills one hundred, you’re a fuckin’ Khajit right now._ He stretched his head out to check the corridor. On the left clear, on the right- _Greg fuckin’ Proops, going your way. Abort mission. You’re the worst Khajit ever. You know why you’ve never played that damn kitty._

Jeff quickly locked himself in the cubicle again, hoping Greg didn’t spot him. Putting a palm over his mouth he tried to breath as silently as possible. The bathroom door clicked once, silent clacking of expensive shoes, second click of the door. A few steps forward and backward, Greg probably checking himself in the mirror, narcissistic bastard. Short rustling of clothes, followed by quiet snicker. Another footsteps, then silent knocking on the door of his cubicle. 

“Jeffrey? Are you REALLY hiding?” 

Jeff jerked a bit when he heard that voice, smooth and sarcastic. He decided not to answer. Maybe Greg will just go away. He cannot possibly know it’s him in the cubicle. He was fast enough to hide before he could spot him. An answer to that particular thought was a bottle of tequilla, handled under the door of his hiding place, along with two glasses. “I thought it would be marvellous to have at least one drink with my dearest colleague. So, will you let me in? You can’t possibly pee that long, you’re way too young to have a prostate problems.” 

“You couldn’t know it’s me,” Jeff stated, resigned tone resonating through his voice. 

“Au contraire, mon ami. You see, if there were no one behind that door, it wouldn’t be locked. And if it were somebody other than you, he would answer me, kitten, because he would not have literally any reason not to. Elementary, Jeffrey. And now, will you let me in your cosy little kingdom of yours?”

“Not sure. You know, I don’t. Oh, fuck it. Rather convincing bastard you are, Gregory,” Jeff mumbled and stood up to unlock the door. For a second or so, Jeffrey gazed at Greg, still not completely sure if he is embarrassed or just afraid that Greg will find him not worthy to waste time with at all. And yes, Jeffrey’s analytic part of brain knew that it’s bullshit, but somehow he couldn’t make himself stop thinking like that.

“Nice to actually see you, Jeffrey. Now, what the heck are you doing?” Greg raised his eyebrow – much higher than Jeff thought is humanly possible – and closed the door behind him. 

“Hiding. I thought it was obvious.” 

“Yeah, but why the fuck are you playing hide and seek, Jeffrey? You do not seem to be THAT wasted to be ashamed to fuckin’ show yourself,” Greg pointed out, locking the door of the cubicle. He leaned over the wall and let his eyes roam up a down his colleague. 

“Well, that’s because I am not. Not now,“ Jeffrey mumbled silently and sat on the floor opposite to Greg. Greg puckered his brow, surprised. “Jeffrey, don’t tell me that all this shit is because of the last year – yeah, a whole fuckin’ year - old event,” Greg shook his head in disbelief.

“Well then sorry I am just a little bit embarrassed about what happened, Greg. I just, I feel like an idiot, you know,” Jeff said, reaching out for the bottle. 

“Yeah, because what you do right now is overflowing with dignity, Jeffrey. Tell me, what exactly are you that embarrassed about, so we can talk about it like relatively rational adult beings,” Greg said and poured them both a drink. “But first, cheers, Jeffrey,” 

“No salt and lemon?”

“Well, sorry for not bringin’ whole mini-bar to the fuckin’ bathroom, Jeffrey,” Greg said sarcastically, “shut up and cheers.” 

“Cheers,” Jeffrey murmured and absently downed the drink.

“And now, let us talk for a bit, Jeffrey. Why exactly you were so embarrassed about our last meeting? I guess it is quite fair for me to know.”

“You really have to ask? I mean, I got drunk as hell, I literally begged you to have sex with me and then I fell asleep in your own fuckin’ bed BEFORE anything could happen. The better question might be: what not to be embarrassed by, Greg, don’t you think?” 

Greg fell silent for a while, studying the face of younger man. Jeff felt his gaze, and it wasn’t pleasant for him. He jerked when Greg suddenly moved next to him, placing his hand on Jeff’s. “You know, Jeffrey, you are a puzzle for me. First time I saw you, you were confident, almost arrogant little prick, and I liked that. Then you’ve changed into a sweet shy lil’ kitten, I liked that too. Coquette cute concubine, then sleepy boy. And now what? You are afraid of exactly what? I judging you would be the hypocrisy of a millennium, Jeffrey. I’ve done way worse. So now quit this nonsense and have another drink with creepy uncle Greg,” Greg sneered and poured them two more shots. Jeff better stopped counting them. He had that creeping sensation that it is going the wrong way again. And yet he didn’t want to do anything to change it. He felt something burning inside of him. He needed Gregory, somehow. Jeff had no clue about all sorts of ways he needs him, but that didn’t matter now. He knew at least one he could have tonight. And he will try his best to get it. 

“So, now the real, burning question, huh. Do I really regret that flirting part, or not? That’s what you wanna know, right, Gregory?” Jeffrey said out of blue, after a short pause. Greg blinked, stunned by the straightforward inquiry. Jeff still felt Greg’s hand, now pressed a little bit, like he needed to make sure it is still there. He watched Greg’s uncertainty, now naked and on display, Greg didn’t have time to cover it with sarcasm and witty remarks. “I have a wife, you know,” Greg answered, plain and simple.

Jeff flicked a corner of his mouth. “I don’t give a fuck, Gregory. I see you five days a year. You are the one who does not feel awkward about all this. You brought a tequila. You came to see me. You want it. I bet you have a pack of condoms in your pocket. If you are not feeling bad about it, so shouldn’t I. I was wasted last year, and I guess I am pretty close to be wasted this year again, but you don’t seem to care. So yes, I was flirting last year and I am trying the same now. I still think you are hot as hell, Gregory. So don’t make these stupid excuses. If you’d really gave a fuck about that golden ring, you wouldn’t be here in the first place,” Jeff said, looking at Gregory, with courage he never felt. 

_Fake it till you make it._

Silence fell, only rapid inhales and exhales were audible. Next thing he saw were Greg’s glasses, far too close for them to be focused. It was sloppy, clumsy kiss, teeth clashing and breathing ragged. Jeff could never get enough of it. “I hate it when you are right,” Greg mumbled against his lips, before sucking on his lower lip. 

“You are a terrible kisser, Gregory Proops. You definitely need more practise.”

“And you are so full of shit, Jeffrey. You love it.” 

“Yeah, I do,” Jeff laughed. Gregory laughed as well. Jeffrey realised how absurd whole this image was. Two grown up men, in small bathroom cubicle of Los Angeles studios, sharing wet, clumsy kisses and a bottle of tequila. He lifted his hand and put Greg’s glasses neatly next to the bottle, surprised how different Greg actually looked without them. “Jeff, for Christ, I’m blind now,” Greg protested, but made no move. “I don’t want them to break,” Jeff stated, simply, with no other remarks. For this moment, he wanted no acting.

“You are so weird, Jeffrey.”

“I guess we are like one another, then,” Jeff half-smiled and kissed Greg, this time much slower, he savoured Gregory’s tongue. Sharp taste of tequila, bitter tobacco, sour traces of late afternoon’s coffee. His hands found their way into Greg’s curls, pulled him even closer, navigated Greg deeper into Jeffrey’s kiss. “Just so you know, I do not have any condoms here,” Greg whispered against Jeff’s lip after a while, amused. Jeff giggled and dragged Gregory into a tight embrace. “Well, it was a long shot, I couldn’t possibly be right about everything. It’s fine, I am content as I am, Greg.” 

“Not that I wouldn’t be, you know, content, as you say, I am, but my back is hurting as fuck. I have a spare key from the roof, I secretly smoke there with janitors, how about moving over there, Jeffrey?” Greg mumbled against Jeff's lips

“Sounds marvellous, Gregory," Jeff lifted corners of his mouth,"Let’s get outta here."

*** 

It was warmer, than Jeff expected, but then again, it was June and it was Los Angeles. Greg was sitting on the edge of the rooftop, legs crossed underneath him, only few inches of concrete away from a hundred feet of air, smoking and sipping from his glass of cheap tequila. He looked just so damn lofty, so out of place. Jeff sat next to him, scared to death, he never liked heights. Yet somehow he felt the urge to sit just there, as it was the only way to get in touch with Greg. To be as close to falling down as him. He jerked a bit, when Greg put him arm around him, bringing him closer.

“You are scared to death right now, aren’t ya, Jeffrey,” Greg said, statement more than question.

“Fuckin’ hate heights, you know,” Jeff answered silently, shivering a bit, despite the warmness of the air around.

“Well, you’re the first one in years who shivers for me, kitten,” Greg snickered and turned him around carefully. Jeff was too caught up in the moment to care, how risky the movement was. Suddenly he felt Greg’s hands on his belt.

“Greg-“ 

“Jeffrey. Let me learn you to love heights,” Greg winked and took Jeff’s erection in his hand. Jeff was not sure whether he was frightened, incredibly aroused or just simply happy for being here. When he felt Greg’s lips lightly feathering around the crown, he decided he didn’t give a fuck about his state of emotions, as long as Greg keeps doing that. It was just unreal, him getting a blowjob on the rooftop of the Los Angeles studio, a few centimetres away from one hundred feet freefall, stars somewhere above that stifling smog, distant screaming of police sirens is mixing up with his own sighing. Greg’s hair locks are slipping through his fingers absently, his mouth around his cock feels just too good, he can smell sharp traces of tequila and Greg’s expensive cologne and it is all so arousing. He balances on the edge of orgasm, just the foggy realisation that tongue was replaced by skilled hand, and a hot breath touched his ear shell, deep, nasal voice followed. 

_Come for me._

Three dirty words and a kiss burning at the side of his neck is all he needs to fall a one hundred feet freefall, just to find himself a second later on the rooftop again, held by Greg, who manages to look just as smug and above everything as minutes before. Except for a slight blur in his eyes, nothing would indicate that he was giving a damn skilled blowjob a few moments back. He almost feels out of the reach, even though he is holding him firmly. 

“Still afraid of heights?” Greg asks and Jeff can do nothing but laugh. It was this very moment, with his pants undone, shrunken, slick dick still sticking up, comfortably tired and drunk, half sleeping above L.A. when he realised that with Greg - no matter what kind of stupid things he’d do or say - he will never be embarrassed again.


End file.
